


Dissent

by SarmaArmour



Series: Tribe [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arguing, Aunty O, Campfire Sex, Camping, Domestic Fluff, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Kickass Kid, Making Up, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, Nanny Abby, Secret Service Agent Blake, Smart Kid, Surgeon Clarke, cute kid, married with kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 13:25:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6330964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarmaArmour/pseuds/SarmaArmour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3x they argue, 1x they don’t. So much has kept Bellamy and Clarke apart over the past month... but they have finally taken a break from the craziness of their everyday lives. The kids are asleep... the fire is roaring... and the stars are shimmering in the sky above them. Can they put the madness behind them and somehow manage to get closer to each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Just borrowing The 100, not for profit!  
> A/N: My first short fanfic ever, it will only be four chapters long, with 1000 or less words, per chapter. I’ve never done anything like this before so please review and let me know what you think, I would appreciate whatever you have to say. Also my work is not beta’d so I apologise for any blatant errors – please point them out if you find them – I like constructive criticism.  
> Pronunciation (keep in mind I’m Australian): Terran = Tare/ren, Aithne = Eth/nee, and I think Ashwin is pretty self-explanatory.

One.

Bellamy entered the dimly lit room that he shared with his wife Clarke and silently closed the door behind him – leaning into it for a brief moment while he allowed his broad shoulders to relax with relief. He turned and walked into the robe, casting a sideways glance at his wife propped up in bed, tablet in hand.

That bloody tablet! Some nights, he felt like throwing it out the window! He looked down at the floor and shook his head with discontent.

“Aren’t you tired?” he mumbled as he peeled his gym shirt from his torso and tossed it into the laundry basket.

“Patient records,” Clarke said quickly, not looking up from her screen. “How’d you go with Terr?”

Bellamy sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Their two year old son Terran was usually a good sleeper, but since the accident two days ago he’d refused to leave his mother’s side, even when it came to bed time. 

“He’ll be okay when everything falls back into routine tomorrow,” Clarke said rather nonchalantly, filling the silent space between them.

“Tomorrow? What’s happening tomorrow?” Bellamy stepped towards her, hands on hips. He had a feeling he knew what was coming next. The only time she read patient records in bed at night was when she had surgery scheduled the following day.

“I’ve got a lumbar micro discectomy.” She finally looked up at him, and wished she hadn’t. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched tenaciously.

“So…” he said low and deep. “Somebody else can do it. It’s a common procedure.”

She pursed her lips together. He knew full well she couldn’t just palm this off to one of the other neurosurgeons.

“It’s too early,” he protested. “You can’t go back to work like this.”

“It’s just cuts and bruises, Bell. I’m fine… honestly.”

“No… you’re not. You could have killed yourself Clarke!”

She didn’t respond to that because firstly, it was true - she had fallen asleep at the wheel - and secondly, because he needed to feel what he needed to feel.

Bellamy stepped back into the robe and indignantly tugged off his track pants, leaving only his black boxers. Clarke felt a flush of heat and shifted her eyes away to the screen. She could handle angry. She could handle half-naked. But angry _and_ half-naked? That was too much.

“This all happened because of work.” He continued as he stepped around to his side of the bed. “How many double shifts did you do last week?”

“I don’t remember,” she was still trying not to look at him, as he drew back the blankets and climbed into bed beside her, his thigh briefly brushing against hers. It had been over a month since they’d made love, and every touch, no matter how trivial, reminded her of the closeness that she was missing.

“You don’t remember?” He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Well I do. And so do the kids. In fact, Ashy’s keeping tabs on you. He’s calculated how many hours you’ve spent at work and how many hours you’ve spent with them in the past month. He’s even got a damn spreadsheet.”

“What?” Clarke couldn’t help but shoot him a look this time. Was he having her on? “He knows how to do that? He’s six years old!”

“If you were ever home, Clarke, you’d realise how much he’s capable of. How much they’re _all_ capable of.”

“That’s not fair,” she whispered dejectedly, placing the tablet face down on her bedside table.

Bellamy grabbed his forehead with his fingers and squeezed his temples, realising he’d gone too far. He knew her job was more than just a job to her, and they’d made a deal a long time ago that they would never use their careers, or their kids, as fodder in an argument.

“I’m worried about you - that’s all,” his voice was rough and regretful. Surely she knew he was coming from a good place.

Clarke turned to face him then and nodded.

“I know,” she said, reaching a hand up to gently rest on his jaw.

He leaned against her soft skin and shifted his face, ready to plant a tender kiss on the inside of her palm, when there was a desperate knock at their door. Bellamy groaned.

“Daddy?” Aithne, their eldest, called his name as she slowly pushed their bedroom door ajar and blinked her sleep filled eyes at the faded light in the room.

“What is it Ethy?” he asked impatiently.

“I woke up,” she said tearfully, “And I can’t find Lamby anywhere… I think I left her at Nanny Abby’s.”

“She’s not at Nanny Abby’s Eth, I put her to bed with you.” Bellamy sighed and drew the blankets back, but Clarke gripped his bicep and motioned for him to stay where he was.

“I got this,” she said with a smile, placing a quick kiss on his forehead before slipping out of bed and ushering their seven year old through the door and down the hallway to her own room.


	2. Chapter 2

Two.

Clarke paced up and down the hallway, trying to calm the shock surging through her system - the frenzy building in her head. She knew she was in no fit state to face him, that she should wait until the hardwiring in her system had waned… but she was furious! How could he be so careless?

She checked on the kids once more and was relieved to see them completely absorbed by the television. They had so little screen time that at moments like this she could rely on them to be totally captivated. The last thing she wanted was for them to endure the tempest she was about to unleash on their father.

As she shut the door, she saw him enter through the back, fingers on the pulse point on his neck, eyes on his watch – checking his heart rate after his run. His body was drenched in sweat.

She stormed over to him, eyes ablaze.

“Where have you _been_?”

Bellamy jerked his head up immediately at the sound of her panic-stricken voice. Her face was ashen.

“Clarke?” he rushed up to her, reaching his hands out to squeeze both her arms in a steadying hold. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t touch me,” she seethed through clenched teeth, shrugging out of his supportive grip.

His eyes flitted backwards and forwards across her face, searching _her_ eyes for answers. He couldn’t read her through the fog of horror shrouding her features but he knew something terrible had happened to make her react like this.

There was only one thing he could think of that would even bring her close.

“Where are the kids?” he said urgently, realising the house was awfully quiet… until he heard the constant hum of the TV in the family room, and Clarke’s sobbing. Wait… Clarke was sobbing?

He turned back to his wife who was slumped on the hall bench, staring at the wall opposite her, eyes red and wet with tears.

 “He had it in his hands Bellamy… h-his finger was on the trigger… I…” she buried her face in her hands for a second but then snapped her gaze up at him with a ferocious rage in her eyes. “You could have killed our son!” she almost screamed, but she was conscious of the kids in the other room – knowing their voices would be only slightly muffled by the thickness of the walls and the drone of the TV.

“What?” Bellamy had never seen her so angry. “Clarke – what are you talking about?”

“I told you when you took this job that I didn’t want any guns in the house. You assured me it would be safe.”

Slowly, his brain started to piece together what she was telling him. He raced to their bedroom and into the robe where their safe was hidden into a shelf recess at the back of the coat rack. He bit his lip and steeled his eyes when he saw it open… and empty.

“It’s here…” Clarke shuddered, behind him.

She was standing beside the bed with his Five-Seven hanging loosely in her shaking hand.

“Clarke…” he breathed softly, curling his fingers through hers and sliding the semi-automatic out of her grasp as he looked from her to her hand and back again, his eyes apologetic. She trembled at his touch and dropped onto the bed. “I’m sorry,” he rasped and placed his arm around her.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Bellamy spoke.

“I swear it was locked.” His head was spinning. He’d definitely closed the safe and punched in the combination last night after returning from his shift. “I don’t understand. How did he…?”

Suddenly a montage of images entered his mind. Ash randomly pointing out how many dotted white lines there were on the road on the way to Nanny Abby’s house, Ash colouring in the database he’d created based on his mother’s hours, Ash memorising the catalogue numbers of his favourite non-fiction library books, Ash… hacking into… his phone.

“Shit!” he proclaimed. “I should have known.”

“Should have known what?” Clarke had pulled herself together enough to question him without commotion.

“My own son.” He stood up and replaced the gun in the safe with a new combination - taking a moment to thank the stars he kept the chamber empty and the ammunition in a separate location. This was not a recreational weapon, nor was it for personal use. It was his service issued firearm and the only reason he kept it at home was for ease of access when he was on-call.

Never in a lifetime would he have chosen to store it here if he had even considered it possible that his six year old would be able to crack the safe code. The gravity of the situation suddenly struck him and he returned to his wife, kneeling before her and taking her hands in his to rub her wrist reassuringly with his thumb.

But before he could apologise, yet again, the sound of small footsteps drew both of their eyes to the hall where their middle child, Ashwin, stood in their bedroom doorway, his eyes dark with guilt.

“Mummy,” he sniffled. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

This time Clarke bit _her_ lip and steeled _her_ eyes in a desperate attempt not to burst into tears in front of their boy. “It’s alright baby,” she managed gesturing for him to come to her. “Just don’t ever do that again, okay?”

He nodded and she pulled him into her for about the tenth time that morning.

Bellamy ruffled his son’s curly hair before encircling them both in a comforting embrace.

They needed to talk about Ash.

But right now, the only thing that mattered was that they were all safe.


	3. Chapter 3

Three.

“Can you believe those people?” Bellamy was still so rattled by the appointment they’d just attended at Aithne’s school that Clarke wondered whether he should be driving. “She was defending some poor defenceless kid. She did the _right_ thing Clarke, you know that don’t you?”

“It’s not that simple Bellamy. She could have done serious damage.”

“All she did was block his attack, and he was a _much_ bigger kid. If she was gonna do damage it would have been to herself.” He was irate. “Did you even _see_ her arm?”

“Of course I saw her arm!” Clarke snapped. She was tired of him always accusing her of missing things, details about their children. He had been on and on about Ash the last few days – how he saw things, knew things that weren’t normal at his age.

If she was true to herself she did feel a little like she’d lost touch with her babies. Work was drowning her. She barely saw them, and the last three weeks had been nightmare after nightmare. First her accident, then Ash’s safe cracking scene and now this – Aithne getting into a fight at school? Where the hell had that come from? Not from her Griffin genes – that was for sure.

“This is your fault,” Clarke stated matter-of-factly.

“What are you talking about?” Bellamy queried.

“You’re the one who insisted she take up Karate at such a young age.” Clarke crossed her arms in front of her as Bellamy took the corner too quickly in his rage. “Can you slow down please?”

He gripped the steering wheel hard but heeded her request. Remembering it was not too long ago he had cursed her for falling asleep at the wheel.

“Don’t you see Bellamy? She’s just like you. She doesn’t know how to control her anger.” As soon as she said it she regretted it.

“Is that right?” he grunted between gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “It’s just… she doesn’t understand Bell. Karate isn’t about using brute force. That boy’s parents could press charges you know.”

“If anyone’s going to press charges it’ll be us.”

Clarke sighed, thinking about the giant bruise on her daughter’s arm from the elbow block she’d used to defend her friend. It would take more than a week to heal and she was lucky she had done no further damage.

“Her dojo’s going to suspend her.” Clarke added.

“Maybe,” Bellamy replied, looking at her sideways as he watched the road. “It depends on their perspective. If you weren’t so concerned with the law or the school rules, you’d see that Eth did a brave thing today. She stood up for somebody who couldn’t stand up for themselves… and that’s something _you_ taught her.” He licked his lips and continued. “So… if you wanna blame me for encouraging her to protect herself, or for her fiery nature - then go ahead. But you can’t deny filling her head with all your highfaluting ideas of justice… _princess_.”

Clarke’s mouth fell open at his final comment. He hadn’t called her that in years.

She turned to look at him and her eyelids flickered at the slick curl of a smile on his lips. There was no masking his delight in having surprised her.

And there was no masking his pride in his daughter’s actions today.

Clarke didn’t know if she could sanction any kind of physical contact with other kids, even if it was in self-defence. But she had to admit, given the injuries on Aithne’s arm and the eye-witness accounts of what had _actually_ happened, she was a bit perplexed by the school’s stance.

She made a mental note to call them in the morning.

They arrived home and were greeted by Octavia in the driveway.

“Bout time,” she whined, hurrying out the door. “Can’t stay, gotta go, sorry. I hope everything went ok. Your daughter is a badass. We’ve been reading their readers and Terr’s been drawing – I think he gets that from you Clarke.”

Clarke smiled trying to take everything in. Octavia was such a bundle of energy and she had a way of illuminating a path wherever she went. Aithne adored her.

“By the way,” Octavia called over her shoulder as she put her bag in the car. “Ash is a genius.” Bellamy and Clarke exchanged worried glances. “He bet me three games to zip in chess. I’m tellin’ you he’s like the next Bobby Fisher or something.”

“C’mon O, it’s not hard to beat you at chess.” Bellamy smirked.

“Oh really?” Then how come you haven’t won a single game in the last… what – fifteen years?” She tilted her head and challenged him smugly.

Before he could retort the kids came rushing out, Terran bouncing in Ethy’s arms, Ash already in his pyjamas despite the fact that it was only five o’clock.

 “Aunty O,” Aithne interrupted “You forgot your book.” She reached out to give it to her.

Octavia’s eyes lit up and she snatched the paperback out of the girl’s hands, gave her niece a quick kiss on the cheek and jumped into the car, waving her arm out the window. “Gotta go, love you peeps, byeee.”

Bellamy and Clarke were left standing, gaping, as she pulled out of the driveway and drove away up the street. They looked at each other, quizzical.

“Was that…?” Bellamy began.

“A copy of _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_?” Clarke finished the question for him.

“Damn…” he smiled, and looked to Clarke with a spark in his eye that she hadn’t seen in a long time, well, at least not in the last three weeks.

Man, did she need a drink.


	4. Chapter 4

Four.

Being around the campfire reminded her of the first time they’d met some ten years prior, out in the forest, hiking with their friends. It seemed like it was a lifetime ago and she felt so far removed from the person she was back then, the person he had fallen in love with.  She hugged her knees to her chest and sighed.

What a shit storm of a month! She couldn’t remember a time they had been more tested in their roles as parents, or spouses. So much had kept them apart these past few weeks and she ached to feel him close to her. Not just close, but _close._

She thanked the stars above for this place - their place. They had returned to this campsite many times over the years – first as a young adventurous couple, and then as a family.

“I love this spot,” she mused aloud, sensing Bellamy’s physical presence behind her before she heard him approach.

She turned her head slightly and watched him, as he watched the stars shimmering across the sky above them.

“What were you doing?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Checkin’ on the kids,” he replied. “And… getting some supplies.”

He held up a cask of port and a block of her favourite chocolate.

Clarke grinned in surprise. He must have hidden them somewhere, because she certainly did _not_ pack them in the food box. He knew she didn’t like surprises… and yet she strangely loved that he completely ignored that fact about her.

Grinning cheekily, he sat beside her on the large broken branch they’d wrangled in front of the fire for a seat. His cargo pants and thin tee smelt of wood chip, smoke and sweat.

 “You got something…” he licked his thumb and reached forward, brushing the skin near the edge of her lip lightly - a smile creeping into his big brown eyes as he registered her small intake of breath. “I think it’s marshmallow,” he sucked it from his thumb with his teeth and lips - his mouth making a wet caressing sound as he did.

When he looked back up at her, his forehead furrowed and his eyes squinted with amusement at the appearance of ecstasy glowing in the firelight on her face. She shook her head and cleared her throat, discouraged now that he’d caught her out.

“What’s the matter princess?” he said huskily as he poured her a cup of port from the cask and handed it to her – leaning into her ear to whisper seductively. “You want me to put my mouth someplace else and make that sound?”

She snorted and almost sprayed port everywhere.

His features broke into a luminous laugh, and his freckles danced across his face. He looked positively beautiful. Even now, after all these years, she was still bewitched by his charm. She couldn’t resist sliding onto his lap, straddling his legs and kissing him persistently.

He hadn’t expected that, but it didn’t take long before he was kissing her back – hot, wet and messy. When was the last time they’d made out like this?

“I’m sorry about the car,” she mumbled between breaths.

“I don’t care about the car,” he said into her neck - his hands all over her.

“We need to talk about Ash,” she added, gasping as his fingers found the buttons on her flannel, well it was his flannel actually, she was just borrowing it.

“Yes we do,” he agreed, pushing her shirt back over her shoulders and looking directly at her.

“Our daughter is definitely a badass,” she finished, a sassy spark flashing in her eyes.

“Just like her mother,” he murmured, a mixture of admiration and animalistic lust lingering in his look.

She clutched at his long curls, grateful that he hadn’t been to the hairdresser in weeks, and pulled his head towards her breasts.

He followed her leadership, cupping her in his hands and rubbing her nipples with his thumbs through the silky material of her bra. His mouth found the sensitive spot between her clavicle and her neck and she cried out with need.

“I need you too,” he slurred into her skin. “I need you _now_.”

 “Right here?” She moaned.

“Why not?” His voice was dense with desire. It had been too long.

He grabbed one of the kids’ towels that were hanging on the camp chairs drying in front of the fire and laid it out beside them.

Clarke crawled over and sat on her knees. He watched her come to him, his eyes raking over her fine figure, her alluring curves enhanced by the shadows cast from the fire. Damn… she was hot. In fact, he found her more attractive now than he ever did - after three kids and a decade of hard work, her body was testament to her strength _and_ her vulnerability.

They finished undressing - taking their time with tender touches and soft kisses in between socks and tops being torn off.

Then she was above him, naked and needy.

He’d almost forgotten what she felt like against him, skin on skin - her stiff nipples dragging ever so slowly over his bare chest as she blazed her lips along the defining ridges of his body, nibbled at the folds in his skin and dug her fingers in.

He had almost forgotten what it felt like to feel close to her.

Close to her body… her heart… her mind… her _soul_.

Close enough that they connected beyond words or looks or even touch.

Close enough that they connected on some base instinctual level. A level that was primal, yet spiritual. Brazen, yet _oh so_ gentle and innocent.

He needed to get closer.

He needed to be inside her.

 “I’m ready,” she breathed. “Bellamy… please.”

He pulled her into him and rolled them over, smirking at the pleasure on her face as he took control.

But the smirk was soon replaced with dismay.

“Dadda…” their baby boy blubbered sleepily from the tent.

Bellamy dropped his head to her chest and let out a long, illustrious lament, sweaty brown curls hanging all over her.

“Seriously?” he groaned.

“Shhh…” Clarke panted, trying to catch her breath. “Wait.”

They lay pressed against each other, on the ground beside the fire, both of them still, listening with their eyes and ears, hoping. Sure enough, the toddler rambled unintelligibly to himself for a few more seconds before there was silence - bar the rapid beating of their hearts, the flickering and spitting of the fire and the chirping of crickets in the grass.

Bellamy lifted his eyes and looked back into his wife’s wild blue gaze, catching a yearning there, even keener than before.

“Where were we?” he growled into her throat, entering her as she wrapped her legs around his upper thighs, dug her fingers into the skin beneath his shoulder blades and arched up to him - urging him to come closer and closer.


End file.
